


Quality Clowning

by Fox_Salz



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Baking, Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guest Appearance By The Handmaid, The Narrative Rests For No Clown, clown family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: Gamzee just wants to give these little clownlets a nice memory.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40
Collections: Genuary 2021





	Quality Clowning

**Author's Note:**

> First time I write any Hiveswap characters and it's not Cirava, truly we're all shocked.
> 
> This is Day 4 for [Clownfest](https://clown-fest.tumblr.com) on tumblr (relationships), which you should all check out, there's been some great submissions so far!

“Doing a fine ass job, my tiny mother fuckers.”

The praise elicits some delighted honks and grins as the little clownlets continue mixing their batter. You beam at them with pride.

You are Gamzee motherfucking Makara, bard of rage, bastard clown, most important character in Homestuck—and you are getting down and dirty with some righteous fucking baking. Specifically, you are downright schoolfeeding these clown youths you picked up off the streets.

Right now you're in a commandeered hive what was abandoned who knows when because of who knows why. Ain’t your business, ain’t the point. Point is, you decided it best to spend some quality time with these honklings on neutral ground even though the twins have their own hive. Maybe it’s hangups from your own fraught relationship with seagoatdad, but you just don’t think it’d be wise to be around their lusus. Might up and not trust a motherfucker, which you wouldn’t be able to get your blame on for. After all, you ain't belonging to this here and now.

Speaking of, this here and now is where your attention is drawn back to, specifically to the floor where Karako’s dipping a finger into his bowl. He takes an experimental taste, contemplative look on his face. He lets out an unsatisfied honk.

Baizli hops up, pulling a bottle out of his sylladex and proclaiming, “I know what it needs! Try this.”

He bounds over to Karako’s bowl and starts pouring in the whatever, Karako watching with wide curious eyes.

“Too much liquid’s all up and gonna make the batter too runny, little ninjas,” you warn.

“I’ll even it out,” Barzum assures, grabbing the bag of flour and pouring alongside her hatchmate. Puffs of the white stuff get on everyone and everything. Karako makes a gagging cough but don’t do a thing to stop them, not that those two are easy to stop when they got a mind to do something.

They finally pull back when the bowl is brimming, contents dangerously near to spilling. Karako lets out several choice honks at them and gets to stirring all over again. The other two share a quick look that just drips mischief like icing from a piping bag before returning to their own batters.

Karako’s making a mess, shit getting all over him and the floor both, but ain’t like it matters none. Chuckling, you start prepping some cake pans you brought. When they're ready you instruct the twins on how to pour in their batters. While they’re getting it in there you turn back to Karako just as he’s taking another little taste.

Eyes widening to twice their size, he up and flushes bright through his face paint. He yanks his hand back and starts fanning the tongue lolling out of his mouth furiously. Barzum and Baizli, meanwhile, are getting their laugh on like this is the most motherfucking wicked funny shit they ever been seeing.

Karako glowers at them with a righteous fucking rage before pushing himself off the ground and lunging at the pair who squeal and run away from his fury. He climbs up on the island counter before throwing himself off of it at the pair, but you catch the little mother fucker mid-air and hold him tight. When he struggles you just pet his hair like you’re some sort of lusus.

“They ain’t mean nothing by messing with you, lil mother fucker. They just get bored too easy.”

“It’s true,” Barzum confirms solemnly. Looking not at all contrite with that wide ass grin, Baizli nods.

With one last petulant honk Karako slumps in your hold. You pet him once more before setting him down and picking up his bowl for him. He takes it carefully, holding it close to his chest as you lead him over to the pans. Wisely, the other two clownlets keep their distance on the other side of the counter.

Soon you get all those tasty soon to be cakes in the oven. They all peer in closely like they gonna watch this whole mother fucking process in real time. Done that yourself before, mostly ‘cause ain’t like you had no one else there to do shit with. These little mother fuckers do, though.

“Aight, mini brothers and sister, time to go make a fucking ruckus elsewhere and let these bitchtits goodies come into their bad selves in their own time.”

Perfect mirrors of each other, Baizli and Barzum smack Karako on the back and send the little mother fucker toppling over as they declare, “You’re it!” Then they’re off at top speed. Karako scrambles up and after them with a determined honk.

Grinning, you watch them go for a bit, mixture of pride and envy invading your pusher. Until there’s a faint swish of displaced Time behind you.

“Clown.”

“Damsis, what the fuck is up?”

You turn to her with an easy smile to mask your reluctance at her showing up. Even though you knew she’d come back eventually to reclaim your sorry ass.

“Time’s up. Got to finish stupid asshole’s plans.”

Face falling just a fraction you reply, “I know.”

You gaze over into the open block next to the kitchen, an old rumpusblock what ain’t been used in sweeps judging by all the dust the kids are kicking up. You’re glad they’re happy, least for right now. Each of 'em got a role to play in the upcoming narrative, all important to making the alpha timeline. Don’t mean you can’t give them a little bit of mother fucking mirth and companionship. ’S why you came here in the first place. Least they deserve, knowing all they gotta go through from here on.

“Have fun?” Damara wonders, and it actually sounds genuine. Maybe just a hint of envious.

“That I mother fucking did. Maybe we oughta bake together sometime.”

She scowls and flips you off, which you’re gonna take as a maybe.

As per mother fucking usual the narrative beckons. Lots of work to do still, no rest for the wickedly righteous. You both do and do not have a wealth of Time, after fucking all. Snickering humorlessly to yourself, you nod at Damara and tell her, “Let’s get our go on, sister.”

Both of you take one last look at the little honklings. They’re all smiling and laughing and having a mirthful time. You call out your goodbye to them and they stop, look mother fucking crestfallen when you say you gotta go. You just tell them when they gotta check on their cakes before Damara’s pulling you out of there and putting you back on the path you gotta walk.


End file.
